Flowing words
   do not beat
as the rhythm of my heart
For they are scarce
   and hard to come by;
Though quiet it seems
   it beats in rapid
succession
At times
     in silent discontent,
    in chaos caused
  by my own façade;
The ironic cadence
   becomes unbearable
And with each--
          sounding--
              beat--
I become weaker,
      and
          weaker.
Yet, I stay in silence
    all too afraid
to scream
        and disturb the peace
Though I compromise my own.

So in vain I sit
in hope someone
will hear
                  the stillness
which rings in
my ears.
My façade is
  all too great
an impenetrable burden
of my own creation
It is this harsh and
       succinct
rhythmic tone
which is my demise
I am trapped
         trapped in structured
synchrony
for the appearance of calm
And I cannot
    quiet my heart
                  and
                                     release
For I am utterly
   scared of the consequence

So I turn
  to you
as I fall from
pressure.
You manage to
calm my quiet,
discontented heart
As no one has before;
The sound is bearable--
the beat has returned;
soothing and calm
Your eyes
      announce
there is nothing
wrong;
there is nothing
wrong;
It will resolve--
   and it has
A better song
      stays in
              my
                 Heart.